The Blood Trail

'Bonjour Madame, How may I be of some help to you?' Mr. Blanchet enquired in his overly silky and cultivated voice. His long nose was inches from the ground as he bent down to greet the mysterious woman seated in the far most and gloomiest corner of his ancient, yet popular French restaurant. His guests usually were well to do noble citizens whose first priority was to make the world see their never exhausting wealth and as a very expected result, all wished to occupy the centre of restaurant and society. It was not an ordinary sight to see a person deliberately occupying the secluded place and this fact was disturbing Mr. Blanchet. 

The lady in front of him was completely immersed in shadows; he could just make the outline of her. Her posture appeared to be as still as a statue carved out of marble, her head was hanging down and fists were tightly clenched on the table in front of her. He adjusted his golden spectacles slipping off his sweaty nose and caught hold of his almost shivering voice. The lady was not a fan of attraction nor was she an ordinary visitor, her presence was enough to run a chill through Mr. Blanchet's old spine. Steadying his voice, he once again asked politely, 'How can I help you, Madam?', nothing except pure frosty silence reached his nearly deaf ears.

The dead silence was unnerving, Mr. Blanchet craved to leave the spot, running like a maniac, but his professional reach and money making would definitely get a vicious backslash from this instinctual act, what if the woman was a rich landlady or nobility member! Huge amounts of gold might be waiting inside her expensive handbag, ready to clink merrily in his desk drawer, this greedy thought was enough to make Mr. Blanchet put up with his highly sophisticated manner. Thinking about the warm gold inside the handbag beside the woman, he once again spoke in an almost shouting voice, 'How may I help you Madam?' The woman's head jerked up and turned towards Mr. Blanchet, who stood frozen on the spot. Lady's head slightly tilted to the right, as though she was asking the reason for disturbing her sombre thoughts. Mr. Blanchet found his lost voice and repeated the same question, his voice breaking with fear. 

'A bowl of red tomato soup', a low and soft voice spoke from the shadows. Lady's head was still tilted towards the right; Mr. Blanchet had a feeling of being peered through although he could not make out the woman's features clearly. Strange softness in the voice was pointing towards the disguised peril underneath it, and Mr. Blanchet was no fool to neglect it. He gave a stiff short nod and turned round to deliver the order as soon as possible. He could still feel the piercing gaze of the lady as he turned around, while walking he stole a short glance backwards and was panic-stricken to find the head of the woman still turned towards him, he could feel her eyes following him all the way although he could not see them. By now his human instincts had taken over his gold greed and he was now desperate to flee away from the lady as soon as possible. 

Mr. Blanchet's hands and back of his neck were drenched in a cold sweat as he carried the bowl of tomato soup to the restaurant's corner where the mystifyingly perilous lady sat. Her shadow was staring ahead as he approached the table with the order. Mr. Blanchet could not bring himself to go into the shadows or get any nearer to woman and decided to place the order on the edge of the table and get away. Quietly as a mouse, he placed the serving tray on edge and turned around as fast as he can. As he walked away he could once again feel the peculiar stare on his back. Ignoring the sudden strong urge to look back towards lady, he guided his shaking steps towards reception. He dropped in the chair behind the counter and wiped his wet forehead with a pearl white handkerchief.

After regaining control of his drumming heart, he called one of his workers and ordered them to attain the lady seated on table fourteen in the corner of dining. The waiter bowed a short bow and took off to serve the lady, as soon as he was out of sight, Mr. Blanchet got down to fill up his end of the day entries in a meticulous long notebook. Work took his mind off the lady in the restaurant.

He was humming a serene cheerful tune when he finally looked up from his work. Taking off his glasses he rubbed his eyes and laid down back in the comfy chair. He checked the antique and exquisitely adorned pendulum clock in the front corner of dining, five minutes to eleven. Mr. Blanchet took a look around the restaurant, it was almost empty and the last of the guests were approaching the exit gates. The clock chimed eleven. Mr. Blanchet brushed the few specks of dust off his formal black waistcoat, straightened his neck bow and grabbed his shiny brown hat, overcoat and jet black highly ornamented umbrella off the stand behind his counter. He was all prepared to leave for residence when something wet touched the bottom of his boots. Annoyed by the cleanliness maintaining services, he looked down. 

His eyes found the ground below him and Mr. Blanchet turned white at the sight of it. It was drenched in ruby red human blood. 

Mr. Blanchet's upper lip was trembling, his forehead was drenched in cold sweat and his aged face looked excessively lined and old. There was a thud as Mr. Blanchet's umbrella hit the slowly reddening marble floor. A long trail of blood was slowly oozing down the neat white floor. Its source seemed to be behind the ornamental partition. The translucent glass of the partition obstructed the view on the other side which was now completely immersed in deadly black darkness. 

All of sudden, an ear-piercing woman's shriek rang through the restaurant. Most of the restaurant staff would already gone home by this time; the last one to depart apart from Mr. Blanchet himself was the sweet and aged cleaner woman, Mrs Susan. The female scream had made Mr. Blanchet's old heart jump into a sort of crazy tap dance, he was able to hear it thudding loudly inside him. 

What could he do now! He was old, unarmed and scared to the bottom of his nerves. His mind went numb and clouded. He was petrified on the spot, with scarlet blood soaking the white marble in front of him. It was probably the last day of his obsolete eatery. And it was probably the last day of his seventy-year long life as well. Somehow, he was sure about the fact that something was terribly wrong behind the partition. He could imagine a bloodied face down body lying there in the darkness with a knife stabbed right through the middle of his back. The killer whomsoever it was might still be lurking around in the corners of dining, waiting to pounce upon Mr. Blanchet and any possible witnesses of the brutal murder. The cleaner might already be dead, and now it was Mr. Blanchet's turn. Mr. Blanchet swallowed loudly as the thought crossed his mind. Being the owner he must investigate the matter. Also, he could not bear to lose a hard to find dedicated employee like Susan, Mrs. Susan had the condition of severe haemophilia, if she had chopped her finger against one of the knives while cleaning it would mean her whole life disappeared like a puff of smoke. The thought had Mr. Blanchet almost burst into tears, Susan had been the longest and the most faithful of his employees, he could not leave her here to die painfully. Deliberately, he took a deep breath and guided his steps towards the origin of the blood trail. 

Holding his breath, he slowly crept towards the partition. The other side was completely imbued in darkness, except for the faint beam of moonlight coming through the spotless window pane. Mr. Blanchet squinted in dark to find the source of commotion but found nothing except a strong smell of phenyl. He could make out the shapes of tables and chairs, all lined up cleanly. Everything looked peaceful in the dark. The fact was confounding, yet Mr. Blanchet felt a bit relieved. His relief did not last longer than a few moments, a quiet sob echoed in the blackness. Mr. Blanchet's body muscles tightened, he stiffly followed the sound moving deeper into dark. His insides were squirming with fear as he moved out of the secure faint white glow of moonlight. Weeping grew louder and clearer with each step he took and along with it, his steps grew more faltering and unstable. 

Soon enough he could make out the door to the employees' sector. A glow in the dark sign was hanging from the door to the area, it had the words 'EMPLOYEES SECTOR' engraved on it in fluorescent colour, usually, it shone brightly in the dark, but today there was an unusual dullness in the way it was illuminated. Mr. Blanchet peered in the dark towards the signboard, and his heart jumped a mile at the sight of it. 

Long and scarlet red finger marks had appeared on the meticulous board infiltrating the light emitted by it. It looked as though someone had very deliberately left his or her imprints on the board, as though warning the viewer about the horror the door hid behind it. The sound of crying was crystal clear and Mr. Blanchet was frozen and stiff with fear. Swallowing loudly, he clenched the doorknob with quivering hands. Turning the knob he opened the door to the employees' sector. Mr. Blanchet could not see his hands in front of his eyes; the only source of light was from the faint glow of the signboard on the opened door. Closing the door behind his back, Mr. Blanchet retrieved the lighter from his coat pocket. The darkness of the room was soon dissolved in the small warm pool of light emitted by the lighter. Holding it above his head, Mr Blanchet started into the long corridor leading to the inner area of the sector.

There were broom cupboards lined up on the right side of the corridor. Mr. Blanchet's eyes were wide open, searching the path for any unusual activity; he was prepared to make a headlong rush for his home at sight of any weird happenings. As quiet as a mouse approaching a cat's den, Mr. Blanchet moved in the search of Mrs. Susan and to discover the source of strange weeping. Blood trail was still as fresh as new, Mr. Blanchet followed it dauntingly. Very soon he was reaching the end of the passage, but still, there was no sign of cleaner or uncanny cries. All of a sudden, the blood trail underneath his boots took a turn and disappeared behind the door to the second last broom cupboard. Mr. Blanchet made the light fall on the door. There were more blood scratch marks on the door, similar to the ones he had seen on the signboard outside. The door opened with a loud creak, and the inside of the cupboard glowed in the yellow pool of light… 

Mr. Blanchet's lighter rolled on the ground and he hit the opposite wall and fell on the ground with a loud thud. His eyes were popping out of sockets and his jaw was clenched open. The scene inside was blood curdling and perilous…. Enough to drive the best of the men to insanity…

Two bodies were stuffed inhumanly inside the tiny broom cupboard. One was seated elegantly on the small stool, while the other was lying face down on the floor. Inexplicably, both bodies belonged to women, one seated was neatly dressed up in an expensive yet discerning black sheath gown, white-gloved hands had been arranged sophisticatedly on her lap. She wore a veiled black hat, the fine taste and gracefulness of the corpse were still visible, but her face was a hideous and pitiful sight to look at. Her eyes were popping out of the socket, due to pain or fear of death, her mouth lolling open to one side, her hair under the hat had come partially undone, an implication of the fierceness of struggle woman had faced. The delicate throat was slit open viciously with the help of a pocket knife. The muscles and veins under the soft, fair skin were clearly visible. The cut was deep, and the blood was pouring down at an alarming rate. 

Mr. Blanchet was daunted by the cruelty of the scene. Taking his eyes off the well to do lady, he looked at the second figure, he prayed for his suspicions to be proven false, to let the figure not be the sweet true-hearted Mrs Susan. But Alas! His fortune was playing the worst of its games today.

The corpse was none other than Mrs. Susan, the cleaner lady. Her always cheerful face had drowned in the horror of her own death. The warm, brown eyes were stretched to the maximum and wore the fear and shock of the incident. Her dark-complexioned skin was wet with sweat drops and shone under the small pool of light. Her full lips were minutely stretched apart and shiny black curls of hair had come undone and covered her once lively and cheerful face. Her throat had been slit open, just like the lady. 

Mr. Blanchet could no longer bring himself to face the horrendous scene before his eyes. He ran out of the long corridor, away from the mutilated bodies. His eyes were popping out of sockets, and tears of dejection were stinging his old eyes. His throat had gone dry from fright. He was horrified.

He reached his desk at reception. An old telephone stood there peacefully. Mr. Blanchet brought the receiver to his ears with fumbling hands. He floundered with the controls and digits, his hand cold and shivering from terror. At last, he managed to dial up the number.

'Hello, Jennifer Skinner speaking', a sharp female voice answered from the other end of the receiver after two long rings.

'Hello, Whose there?', The voice asked again when there was no response.

Mr. Blanchet managed to utter a few words, his voice dry from trepidation.

'M-murder, D-double, Blue Moon Over Avila, Quick ', Blanchet hung up the call. He had called up the professional British investigator, Jennifer Skinner. He made another call, to the nearby police quarters, he didn't want any future enquires regarding lack of information. A male voice answered the ring.

'Police quarters, Avery Street'

'B-B-Blue Moon Ov-Over Avila, M-Murder, Quick', He managed to stumble.

Cutting the call he rushed out of the restaurant and moved in the short pool of light of a nearby lamppost, digesting the horror of the incidents.

The blood curdling cries still ringed in his ears, the terrific picture of mutilated bodies lingered in his mind. He was going to pass out, but he was too scared to even move a muscle.

Had he committed a mistake by following the trail? Was he the next target for the inhumane murderer? Would Jennifer Skinner show up? What would be the future of his hard-earned restaurant and himself?

He dropped down on the roadside pavement, sinking into the pool of questions and possibilities…